


Rapture

by Idrelle_Miocovani



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Antiva, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Food Kink, Love, Pre-Trespasser, Romance, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 13:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idrelle_Miocovani/pseuds/Idrelle_Miocovani
Summary: While on holiday in Antiva, Josephine still finds herself fretting about work. With Vidomeda's help, she makes a promise to leave her worries behind and let go.





	Rapture

Despite usually getting up before sunrise, Vidomeda had never called herself an early riser. 

Throughout most of her adult life she had forced herself to get up early. The ruthless life of the Valos Kas waited for no one, not even someone desperate to sleep off too much alcohol. The Inquisition was no better—the fate of the world waited for no one, not even the exalted leader with the glowing hand. Vidomeda would grumble and groan and curse about it, but she accepted that she didn’t have much of a choice. There were problems that required her attention, and those problems did not go away simply because she wanted to keep her eyes shut. 

That was then. 

It was a different story now. 

Vidomeda lounged on a luxurious bed, her back leaning against a mountain of cushions, absently rubbing her bare legs together. The silk white sheets were softer than anything the Inquisition had been able to import, a comfort only truly found in Antiva. She delighted in wearing nothing except her silk smallclothes, made of a bright turquoise cloth and embroidered with gold. She had a book propped up against her thighs, holding it open with her right hand. A sliver of late afternoon sunshine cut across the marble floor. A soft breeze drifted in through the open windows, fluttering the translucent white and gold curtains to and fro. Outside, she could hear the twittering of birds and the soft roar of the ocean waves beyond. 

Vidomeda sighed, smiling and content. She had risen only three hours ago and, after a hearty breakfast that consisted of fresh fruit and dessert, had proceeded to do nothing except lounge in bed and read her book. Josephine had been up long before her, but nothing in the world could stop Josephine from finding things to do. Not even when they had a secluded villa all to themselves. Of the twenty or so trunks they had brought from Skyhold, Vidomeda suspected at least eight contained various reports, trade manifests and paperwork Josephine intended to go through, despite being on a month-long vacation. 

It was one of Josie’s personal idiosyncrasies that Vidomeda loved. 

“Oh, for Maker’s sake!” 

Vidomeda raised her head, hearing Josephine’s surprised exclamation and the accompanying splash of water. She set down her book and slid off the bed, padding across the room to the entrance to the bathroom. 

“Everything okay?” 

The bathroom was designed to flow into the main chamber, and so there was no door for privacy. It was a quaint space, with pink and gold walls painted with little vines and flowers. The far back wall was one large window, overlooking the ocean. Like the rest of the villa, it was light and airy, a nice change from the mustiness of Skyhold’s cramped chambers.   

In the centre of the room, a large bath was sunk into the floor. Designed with ancient elvhen baths in mind and amplified with modern dwarven technology, it was large enough to swim in and heated with runes. The perimeter was lined with benches, and it was here that Josephine sat, steaming water lapping gently against the tops of her breasts. Her hair was piled on top of her head and she held a quill in her hand. A splash of ink streaked across her cheeks. 

“What are you—” 

Vidomeda’s eyes widened as she saw a piece of parchment float in the water, its wet, ruined form looking more and more defeated by the second. 

“Josie?” 

“Well, there goes the treaty for the Duchess of Hercinia.” 

Vidomeda fished the parchment out of the bathwater. “Maybe it can be salvaged—” She flipped it over. It had turned into a mess of wet ink. “Never mind.” 

Josephine sighed and set down her quill. “Oh well. I’m sure it’s not a disaster, I’ll simply have to draft another one. I’m sure if I forget something, it wasn’t terribly important.” 

Vidomeda sat down at the edge of the bath, plopping her legs into the water. “Somehow I’m not surprised to find you working when you’re supposed to be bathing,” she teased. 

Josephine frowned. “I _am_ bathing!” she said, waving a hand around and splashing the water. 

“Yes, dear. That’s why you have ink on your face.” 

Josephine’s eyes narrowed. _“Meda…”_  

Vidomeda wet her fingers in the bathwater and brushed them across Josephine’s cheek. “There. All better now.” 

Josephine sighed and pushed off the edge, cutting through the water to the centre. She flipped over and floated on her back, her toes and the tips of her breasts poking out of the water. Her hair slowly loosened, floating around her head like a dark halo. 

“I know I’m working too much,” she said. “You don’t have to say it.” 

Vidomeda slowly kicked her feet back and forth. “I wasn’t going to say anything. You _like_ work. Why would I stop you from doing something that makes you happy?” 

Josephine tilted upwards, treading water as she ran her hands through her hair. “Pass me that, would you?” She nodded towards a little collection of bottles sitting at the edge of the bath. 

Vidomeda stood up. “Which one?” 

“The purple one.” 

Vidomeda picked up the right bottle and cracked it open. She inhaled, breathing in an intoxicating scent of citrus and other fruits. It reminded her of Rivain, of the perfumes used by the men and women of her foster’s mother’s theatre company. It was the scent of home. 

She handed Josephine the bottle. 

Josephine poured a dollop of the bottle’s contents into her palm and passed it back. She ran her hands through her hair, lathering it fully. _“Do_ I work too much?” she asked, her forehead creasing with worry. 

Vidomeda put her feet back in the water. “From what I’ve seen, Josephine, you are the kind of person who, if you don’t have something to worry about, you will _find_ something to worry about. And if I’m being quite honest, I do worry a little for you. No matter how much you delegate, you take on more than you need to. Your attendants would have been perfectly capable of drafting this treaty back in Skyhold and you know that. You need to learn to let go sometimes.” 

Josephine dipped her head back in the water. “I know how to let go.” 

“What are you thinking about? Right now?”

“Mmm…” Josephine shut her eyes and floated, hands running slowly through her hair, washing the lather out. “The ocean. This bath. To be in Antiva again, to be home. With you.” Her eyes opened, and she stared at the ceiling. “That I will have to schedule the time to re-write that treaty before this month is out—” 

“No!” Vidomeda’s legs were long and her reach was far. She put her foot out and prodded Josephine with her big toe. “If you’re thinking about the treaty, you’re not letting go.” 

Josephine snorted with laughter and swatted Vidomeda’s foot away. “Very well. I will not… _think_ about it…” Her face contorted with effort. 

Vidomeda chuckled and withdrew her feet from the bath. “How about I leave you to enjoy your bath,” she said. “You can practice letting go. Meanwhile, _I_ have a book to finish.” 

She felt a chastising flick of water on the back of her legs as she left and couldn’t help but grin. She returned to the main chamber, padding over to the table still laden with food from earlier. Vidomeda picked up a handful of grapes and popped them into her mouth, one by one, her thoughts lingering on Josephine. 

Despite Corypheus’ defeat over a year before, the Inquisition still had much work to do. Even though Celene had secured her throne, Orlais was far from stability. Ferelden was left coping with the devastation left behind by both the Mage-Templar War and Corypheus’ forces. They could barely go a week without hearing about discoveries of forgotten Fade rifts from across southern Thedas and Vidomeda remained the only one who could close them permanently. 

She was beginning to think they would never truly be free of it. It had taken more work than she cared to admit to secure a month-long holiday for herself and Josephine, sequestering themselves far away in an Antivan villa where no one could bother them. They needed this. They needed time for themselves, time for their relationship. 

Time to be people, with desires and wants and wishes. 

Vidomeda walked back to the bed, grabbing her book and sitting down. She shimmied up the silken sheets until her back rested against the pillows and cracked open her book. 

She was fully engrossed in the story once again when Josephine emerged from the bath, a towel around her head and a long, golden robe clinging to her body. She had cinched it tight around her waist. Its neckline was a deep V that cut all the way down to her navel, exposing a generous amount of cleavage. 

Josephine walked to the table took a bowl patterned with vines. She selected a generous helping of fruit, berries and whipped cream, adding them all to the bowl before sitting on a gilded chair. She picked a strawberry from the bowl and bit into it, luxuriating in the taste. Vidomeda watched her out of the corner of her eye—she loved watching Josephine eat. It was like a dance, elegant and polite, her teeth gently scraping the bright red flesh. Vidomeda would have unceremoniously gobbled the thing in one bite. 

“How was your bath?” she asked, turning a page. 

“Refreshing,” Josephine replied. 

Her eyes flicked back and forth from the table to Vidomeda, fingers tapping on the table. After a moment of indecision, she swept to her feet and uncoiled the towel from her head. Her dark hair fell in curls around her shoulders as she shook them out. Placing the towel on the back of the chair to dry, Josephine reached for a pitcher and two glasses. 

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, pouring a generous amount of wine, “about what you said. About how if I don’t have something to worry about, I _find_ something to worry about. And it’s true. I do that. Often.” She set the pitcher down and picked up the glasses. “But I’ve made a decision. For the rest of today and tonight, I am going to worry about _nothing_.” 

Vidomeda raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” she said, straightening up. 

Josephine carefully clutched the glasses in one hand and picked up her fruit bowl in the other. She swept across the room, golden robe fanning out behind her. “Nothing,” she continued, “but you.” She placed the bowl on the bedside table and handed Vidomeda a glass of wine, her fingers curling around the stem of her own.

 Vidomeda accepted the glass and held it aloft. “Are we toasting something?” 

“Yes,” Josephine said. “To letting go.” 

She clinked her glass against Vidomeda’s and they took a generous sip of wine each. 

Josephine smiled coyly, lips freshly stained red from the wine, and plucked Vidomeda’s glass from her hands. She set both glasses on the bedside table, then scooted closer, pushing Vidomeda’s book away. She glanced at the cover and tried to hide her laughter. 

“Where in Andraste’s name did you find that?” she asked. 

“In Rivain,” Vidomeda replied. 

“Why did I assume you’d be reading _Swords and Shields_?” 

“That may work for Cassandra,” Vidomeda said, “but personally, I don’t think I could ever read anything I knew Varric was behind and _not_ be embarrassed by the sex scenes.” 

Josephine laughed and pressed a hand to Vidomeda’s face. “That’s why I try to forget that he wrote it.” 

Josephine leaned in and kissed her, her lips tasting of wine and berries. She pulled away, linked her hands around the back of Vidomeda’s neck and smiled, her grey eyes dancing. 

“You are the only thing I want to think of,” she said, kissing her again, lips leaving Vidomeda’s mouth and pressing up her jawline to her ear. “May I?” she murmured into her ear. 

Vidomeda’s breath caught in her throat. “May you what?” she asked, enjoying the pressure of Josephine’s hands as they pressed against her shoulders. 

Josephine’s fingers dug into her skin. “I want to make love to you, Meda,” she murmured, lips pulling at Vidomeda’s earlobe. “I want to spend this day thinking of nothing but you.”    

Vidomeda smiled, warmth spreading in her stomach. She brushed a stray black curl away from Josephine’s face. “Josie…” 

Josephine grinned mischievously and gave her a playful push. Vidomeda let herself fall backwards, landing against the pillows. Her eyes swept over Josephine as she hoisted herself onto the bed and straddled her. Josephine’s golden robe in the middle as she moved, showing her naked body beneath, damp and shining from the oils of her bath. Her large, soft breasts bounced as she settled on top of Vidomeda, her thighs gently squeezing Vidomeda’s sides. The train of her robe brushed over Vidomeda’s bent knees, the cool silk fluttering against her skin. Vidomeda threw Josephine a grin, wriggling to and fro, the bedsheets bunching beneath her. 

“Oh no,” she said. “Now I’m in trouble.”        

Josephine raised an eyebrow. “Hardly,” she said. “I’ll let you know when you’re in trouble.” 

She ran a finger down Vidomeda’s neck, her touch feathery. The pressure was so light it tickled and Vidomeda couldn’t help but laugh. Josephine leaned forward, her breasts brushing against Vidomeda’s, and pressed her lips to hers.    

“Now what?” Vidomeda murmured through the kiss. 

Josephine kissed her again and sat up. “Hmm… I have a few ideas.” 

“Such as—?”

“Ah!” Josephine put a finger to Vidomeda’s lips. “No, love. You will find out soon.” She trailed her finger down Vidomeda’s neck, coming to rest at the top of her brassiere. The silk was enclosed at the centre of her breasts by three small bows. Josephine untied them slowly but dexterously, taking her time and shooting Vidomeda a sly look from under her lashes. 

Vidomeda shivered in anticipation. 

Tugging the strand of the last bow, the brassiere came undone in Josephine’s hands. She pulled the material away and unceremoniously tossed it on the floor. 

“Aww,” Vidomeda said. “That was my best lingerie.” 

“I know,” Josephine replied. “I have it to you. You _do_ look quite fetching in it, but… I like this look better.” She ran a thumb Vidomeda’s dark nipple, teasing it, pinching it. 

Vidomeda tilted her head back, embracing the sensation. “I can’t argue with that.”  

Josephine smiled again and reached out to the bedside table. Vidomeda watched curiously as Josephine scooped a finger into her fruit bowl, coating it with whipped cream. She promptly stuck it in her mouth and let out a delighted cry. 

“Mmm… Leliana didn’t lie. That _is_ delectable.” 

Vidomeda’s breath caught in her throat. “Is it now?” she said. “Don’t be greedy then. Save some for me.” 

Josephine arched an eyebrow. “Of course, love. I couldn’t imagine keeping something so sweet all to myself.” She grabbed a spoon from the bowl and scooped out a spoonful of the fluffy substance. Shifting her weight on Vidomeda, she brought the spoon in and placed two generous dabs of cream, one on each breast, perfectly covering her nipples and large areolas. 

A pleasurable shiver trilled down Vidomeda’s spine. The cream was soft and cool, a new sensation against her skin. “We’re going to need another bath,” she said, gazing up at Josephine. She had to stop herself from shaking with laughter—Josephine was considering her handiwork like it was a piece of art. It looked like she didn’t want to ruin the image.   

Josephine brushed her curls out of the way, looping them around the back of her neck and over one shoulder. She put her mouth to Vidomeda’s breast and suckled the cream off her skin. Her tongue was light and quick, flicking over her nipples as she lapped up the cream. 

Vidomeda moaned, electrified by the sight of this beautiful woman whom she loved straddling her. There was something intensely erotic about the combination of her, Josephine and the whipped cream. She was very, very aroused, and—she knew immediately—she was very, very _wet._   

Josephine’s lips pulled away and she sat up. A sheen of sweat was beginning to form, glistening on her chest and beneath her breasts. She picked up the spoon. “Would you like a taste?" 

“Yes,” Vidomeda said breathlessly. “Oh, dear Maker, _yes.”_  

Josephine grinned, dipping the spoon into the bowl once more. She scooped out a generous amount and brought it carefully to Vidomeda’s mouth. 

A small dollop fell in transit, landing between Vidomeda’s breasts. 

“Oh no!” Vidomeda exclaimed. “We’ve lost some! _Whatever_ shall we do?” 

“Hush,” Josephine reprimanded gently, and put the spoon in Vidomeda’s mouth. 

The cream melted immediately and Vidomeda’s head whirled from the taste. She closed her eyes, embracing it, swallowing it, instantly hungry for more. She felt Josephine’s tongue on her chest, licking away the fallen cream. Unable to contain her laughter, Josephine giggled and tumbled forward, hands pressing against Vidomeda’s wrists, pushing them into the pillows and she kissed her, her mouth hot and heavy and sweet.      

“You taste like Antivan whipped cream." 

“There are worse things.” 

 _“Much_ worse things. I like it. I think we should use it more often.” 

Josephine raised an eyebrow. She sat up, hands on her hips and shot Vidomeda a coy look. “Oh, really?” 

Vidomeda laughed and bucked her hips. Josephine slid sideways, tumbling into the bed with a shriek. She landed on hers side, golden robe pooling around her, hair falling into her eyes. She blew a stray strand away with a puff of air and scrunched her nose. 

“Trickster,” she said. “You’ve got some on your face…” She brushed Vidomeda’s cheek with her thumb. 

Vidomeda rolled onto her side, bumping Josephine’s forehead with her own. “You’ve got some on yours,” she countered, and wiped the remaining cream away with a finger. 

They lay there for a moment, mostly naked, bodies pressed against each other, legs entwined, feeling the warmth and the sweat of their skin. The sun shone through the open windows, illuminating the bed, warming their bodies. Josephine’s hand snaked into Vidomeda’s, and she squeezed it tightly.    

“I love you.” 

“I know.” 

“No,” Josephine said. “I _love_ you. You make me brave, you make me adventurous, you make me consider things in ways I had never thought of before. You make me a better person, a kinder person, a more generous person. Without you, I would be fastened a desk, managing my family finances, putting my siblings’ desires far, far above my own. You’re the reason I can be my own person again, for that I am grateful.” 

Vidomeda touched her nose to Josephine’s. “So many shining endorsements! Maybe we should go on holiday more often—” 

Josephine pressed her lips to Vidomeda’s. Her breath was warm in her mouth, tongue flicking against her teeth as she deepened the kiss. Then she pulled away sharply, her teeth scraping against Vidomeda’s bottom lip and her hands slid down her torso. Josephine moved further down the bed, hooking her fingers around Vidomeda’s silk smalls and pulling them down. She discarded them on the floor, then sat back on her haunches and shrugged off her own robe. The shimmering material slithered off the bed, pooling on the floor. 

Josephine took her hair in her hands and pulled it up, twisting it around in a loose knot on the top of her head. She sat in a pool of golden sunlight, looking positively radiant, every inch of her glowing. She crept forwards, gently pushing Vidomeda’s knees apart, placing her soft lips against the skin of Vidomeda’s inner thigh. She kissed her way up, nipping lightly at the skin. She swept a finger up Vidomeda’s folds, coating it with her wetness. She circled her clit. 

Vidomeda moaned. “Josie—” 

Josephine’s finger circled and circled, adding more pressure. Vidomeda squirmed, pleasure flaring in her stomach. She panted, hands reaching for her own breasts, squeezing her taught nipples. Josephine laughed and withdrew her fingers. She ran her hands over Vidomeda’s tights, squeezing the firm muscle, pushing her legs farther apart. She leaned forwards, hands travelling up Vidomeda’s legs to rest against her hips. Her fingers dug into them, holding her in place as she bent her head and ran her tongue over Vidomeda’s clit. 

Vidomeda gasped, hips bucking against Josephine’s hands. Josephine’s fingernails scratched her as she moved, stinging ever so slightly. Her back arched and she squeezed her breasts more forcibly, letting sensation take her as Josephine suckled her, her mouth warm and tantalizing. She closed her eyes, body shaking, letting her voice do whatever it pleased. 

This moment, sinking into soft sheets, warming in the Antivan sunlight, gasping for breath at her lover’s touch, was as close to perfection as she could get. She was sailing the ocean, and Josephine was her guide, her navigator, safely guiding her through one cresting wave after the next. 

She came, trembling all over, ecstasy and glee one and the same in this moment. She sat up and pulled Josephine close, hands clasping around her lower back, drawing her into her lap. She kissed her all over—cheeks, neck, shoulders, breasts, mouth, and, last of all, her nose. 

Behind Josephine’s back, Vidomeda’s left hand began to glow green. It was only a pinprick of light, flaring out towards her fingers, but it was enough to catch her attention. A reminder—of all the things that had changed, for better and for worse. 

Vidomeda flexed her fingers and the glow died away. She turned to Josephine. Her hair was a mess, tumbling out of its knot and coiling over. Vidomeda brushed it back, gathering it at the nape of her neck, then pressed her forehead against Josephine’s. 

“You know, I was in Antiva two years ago,” she said. 

“Really?” Josephine replied. She curled one finger around a loose lock of Vidomeda’s hair. “And what did that entail, I do wonder?” 

“Oh, the usual. Get a contract, do some spying, beat some guys up, set a tent on fire… Accidentally get involved in a play at a major theatre and dress up as a chicken—” 

Josephine chuckled. “That took an unexpected turn. You will have to tell me that one.” 

“You should hear my chicken impression,” Vidomeda said. “It’s very good.” 

“I—well, I’m sure I can imagine—” 

Vidomeda clucked like a chicken. Josephine nearly fell out of her grasp, chortling with laughter. 

“You’re right,” she said, burying her face in Vidomeda’s neck. “That is a _very_ accurate representation of a chicken.” 

 _“Anyway,”_ Vidomeda continued, “what I was trying to say was that the last time I was in Antiva, I would never have imagined that when I found myself back in this beautiful country, it would be to spend a holiday with the woman I love. Isn’t it funny how the direction of your life can change, just like that?” 

“You’re feeling very introspective all of a sudden,” Josephine said. “Where’s this coming from?” 

“Oh, nowhere,” Vidomeda said. “Just taking a moment to appreciate the finer things in life. Like you.” 

Josephine chuckled and kissed her soundly. 


End file.
